Warm hear-ted treasures obtained from clarity , This time its not considered a charity, I must reseal the trinity and organize my facility, Renew what has jumbled deep inside my database, Suppress my feelings that sit amongst the desk I currently face, I can feel tightness in my chest, Concentrating on breathing and positive feelings, Please someone draw me back down from the ceiling, Or maybe ill just observe from this perception, Taking in the vibes from inner reflections, True self exposed keeping my eyes open oso vividly, Your not welcome in my domain hostility, Invitations mailed to my dear friend serenity, This party is held everyday for eternity, I'm serving truth ultimately unlocking the chains, Spraying that peace in each others brains, Smells so delicious we all taste it, Few see it.. Tell yourself your happy since it sounds legit, Don't quit, Chewing the cure don't make me spit, Take my love but then ya split, This is all so strange isn't it? But it sure is one hell of an adventure, My bodies missing pieces wheres its dentures? Sad is an sort of understatement, Controlling my meaningful investments, So I thought, however I actually forgot, Still grinning and hits the right spot, I like you a lot.

If I buried them with an apropos prayerthey would never decomposeand that would be an ecological sin.

If I stuck them in my mouthI’d look like that creature in Alienwith a double set of chompersand that would be at once an homage to the artist H. R. Gigerand a sacrilege like the doves released from Pope's windowattacked by a black crow(who everybody knows is Satan).

So I hid her dentureson top of the Coke vending machineat the Krispy Kreme on 2 Penn Plaza, NYso mom could devour the heavenly view.I imagine her impassioned eyes glazed like an 'original' sinful doughnut,her dentures munching like a wind-up toyat the sublime sight of her favorite indulgence that probably sent her to an early grave.

This is part of my Prosthetic Poetry collection. Please visit:Can My Prosthetic French Heart Love Thee?http://hellopoetry.com/poem/648434/can-my-prosthetic-french-heart-love-thee/

If you’ve only ever smelled fir trees covered with freshly fallen snow-then you haven’t smelled it.It’s an acquired smell, for sure.It comes just in between the whiffs of mashed potatoesmashed carrotsmashed peasmashed turkeyhell, mashed ginger-ale for all I know. . .Somewhere amongst that microwaved menagerie, masked with the smell of eau de toilette, it lives, and smells sweeter the longer brown sugar bubbles on top of caramelizing yams.

If you can’t smell it, maybe you can find it.Not many can, or do.It hides in plain sight, though.A lost and found box with accumulated cobwebs - everything still unclaimed.A flyer for free puppies that no one ever took because they were “too much responsibility.”Maybe there aren’t enough seekers in this game of empty rooms and blank guest books.But keep looking, until bingo prize hand-me-downs after school plays look like Oscars.You won’t see it until it makes you believe that plastic Mardis Gras beads are Tiffany-blue boxes.

It’s not so much in the nose, or the eyes as it is in the endurance.Endure the voiceless Glenn Miller until his brass bellows become her voice - whispering “I love you” to the effortless rhythm of “Moonlight Serenade.”And imagine her,swapping her orthopedics for black heels,elegantly taking Pop’s hand as he helps her up from her wheelchair,to join him for just one more dance.Watch as they become the sepia-colored couple in every anniversary photo.That black dress. Those fake pearls. The crescendo of the band.It’s hard to miss when it’s screaming at you.

If I buried them with an apropos prayerthey would never decomposeand that would be an ecological sin.

If I stuck them in my mouthI’d look like that creature in Alienwith a double set of chompersand that would be at once an homage to the artist H. R. Gigerand a sacrilege like the doves released from Pope's windowattacked by a black crow(who everybody knows is Satan).

So I hid her dentureson top of the Coke vending machineat the Krispy Kreme on 2 Penn Plaza, NYso mom could devour the heavenly view.I imagine her impassioned eyes glazed like an 'original' sinful doughnut,her dentures munching like a wind-up toyat the sublime sight of her favorite indulgence that probably sent her to an early grave.